I no longer have a name
by Misti Wolan
Summary: In Star Wars Forcesensitive dead can hang around. So suppose Padmé Amidala Naberrie once had a baby sister, and suppose this baby sister watched her sister and family after her death. What might she want to say to her sister's family?
1. Luke

Disclaimer:  
Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, etc.; blah, blah, blah…  
This is obviously a complete figment of my imagination, springing from the interesting detail that when Padmé Amidala's sister Sola called her "baby sister"—exasperated, Padmé snapped that she was "not [her] baby sister!"… Why did Padmé get upset if there were only two of them and she was the younger of the two? Was there someone she never told Anakin about? If so, why did she never tell him; nor anyone else, for that matter? From Padmé's character, she'd probably felt guilty. Why would she feel guilty? What would make her feel that way?  
(Just showing where this came from.)  
  


LUKE  


  
Hello, Luke.  
You play with your son right now. I've never seen a father play with his son. I had no brothers; and your father never played with you, except to try to seduce you to the Dark Side. My grandfather was dead by the time I was born, though my sisters had gotten to meet him.  
You named your son Ben—after Obi-Wan, you say. Do you know that Kenobi got the name from your mother screaming for "Ben" in the middle her nightmares? Do you know who those nightmares were really about?  
I don't think you do. You've never looked for him; not even when on Dathomir. You've never noticed those slight ripples in the Force that flow directly to you and your sister… Because the ones between you twins are so strong, perhaps? Is that it?  
Or maybe it's something else. You never met Benji's presence—you spent months in the same womb as your sister, though. Maybe that makes the difference.  
It doesn't matter. You're content, if sometimes sadly reminiscent that you'll never know who your mother was. The thought that another Skywalker child might be out there doesn't even enter your thoughts, and I can't put it there. I wonder what you'd do if you knew that Fallanassi, Akanah, had been closer to the truth than she'd known—that Wialu, from my perspective, lied to you about Nashira. Akanah had _meant_ it as a lie, but Nashira _was_ your mother.  
_Na-shira_, "forlorn mother of twins". I wonder why she let them call her that.  
More so, I wonder why Akanah never guessed. I mean, wasn't it obvious? She'd never seen "Nashira" with the White Circle while on Lucazec; yet they trusted her enough to bear a message. The Circle's excessively keen on keeping the religion quiet—more so about the species. I don't think Akanah knows there _is_ a Fallanassi species. She's so ignorant. _I_ know more than her.  
Artoo-Detoo beeps behind you, Luke. Why are you getting Threepio to translate? Haven't you learned Droidspeak by now? Your mother did, and she owned him a lot less time than you.  
"The Chief of State's at the door," the astrodroid beeps and whistles, with a snickering sound to it. Threepio makes it sound pleasant—but it's not what Artoo said, anymore. Threepio never _translates_ what Artoo says; that protocol droid _interprets_ it.  
I liked him a lot better before his memory wipe, but my poor sister couldn't handle him constantly asking after "Master Anakin"; couldn't have him asking your sister that.  
"Your sister" she is to me, Luke. I'm sorry, but I can't think of her as anyone else. It's strange, though, because ever since she was born, I haven't really been anyone, either.  
I'm kind of glad I'm dead; that I've had to grow up by watching your parents; you. At least I don't have the bothersome problems I had while alive—ones that would've made life miserable for me, once the Empire killed my father _and_ my sister. I wouldn't have been able to wait for Jacen, and even if I had followed Pooja to Dathomir, what would have happened once the Nightsisters found out my fatal weakness? What would've happened if we'd ever gotten separated?  
Rhetorical question. I know what would've happened. You wouldn't believe how I died, Luke. I know none of the Old Order Jedi would have, especially since they'd known my grandmother.  
So that, and my lack of identity are spared by my remaining dead. I probably could come back if I tried… if someone showed me how. My sister might have been the most Fallanassi of the three of us—in the last possible generation for it to show, the grandchild—but I was in-between. That's where the problem that killed me comes from—Human and Fallanassi genes, joining in a way so as not to complement, as my sister's did, giving her all sorts of strengths to battle her one flaw; but to hinder, making me clumsier than someone with no Force connection, weaker, slower…  
So it's good I'm dead. I think. I wish I could talk to you, at least; but supposing I could you'd ask who I am. I'm not _anybody_, Luke; my identity has been taken from me, and given to another. I _was_ somebody, once. I am some_thing_. But neither of these I can tell you, Luke, for no matter how I try, I cannot get you to hear me.  
Nephew.  



	2. Leia

  


LEIA  


  
I see you with your husband… niece. He's teasing you, right now, about being a princess. Do you know your father used to do that to my sister? —Only your mother was a Senator. Do you know she is where you have inherited your political sense from? Your cool head? Your patience?  
Your sense of being personally wronged, your sharp tongue, your hot temper—those are from your father. My sister had a quick temper, too; but she had a secret way of dealing with it, a way of being angry without losing her cool; a way of keeping in control. Even now, I do not know what she did, else I would try to tell you. Grandmother never taught me or Sola. Only her.  
I do not even try to make you hear me, niece. I'm afraid you will. And I don't know what to say to you, except that your mother tried till the end to find a way to keep you two, and that's something I'd rather tell Luke.  
What to call you is as difficult a problem as what to call myself, for I no longer have a name; it is yours now. But your name was my own name, so how can I call you that? There is your nickname, your childhood name… Lelila. But that was Grandmother! Nor can I call you "Mistress Solo"—that was my sister's best friend.  
So I drift here without a body, watching, wondering, pondering as I wait… This is tiresome business, this waiting. I do not know what I wait _for_. I used to think it was my sister's death–but I stayed. Then I believed it was her husband—but there was Luke, lonely at his father's death, and I could not leave him. When he married, I thought, I'd go—but you had children, niece, and I was fascinated how you and Han, unwitting of the deep friendship your mothers had shared, bonded and raised your children in a way a lot closer to normal than your own childhoods had been.  
I rather like you, niece. I wish we could've known each other, but I don't think we would've gotten along too well. I'm too much like Grandmother to be much more than a nuisance.  
Oh, dear. I've done it again. Grandmother and Grandmother—it's so confusing, even to me! My father's mother, one of the Twenty, was a Jedi Master who formally left the Order to the relief of many; and my mother's mother, a seemingly disreputable blackmailing bartender, who few knew the true nature of. I only know what she really was because my sister told me, niece, one of those nights long ago when she was content to let me stay around her… to talk to me… to not fling me out, as she had a tendency to, claiming I invaded her privacy.  
In that sense, I'm glad none of you hear me. It keeps you from getting angry at me, from forcing me back out into the lonely expanse where I don't belong. I shouldn't be dead. Even supposing it had been long enough, what killed me was too ludicrous to have been fatal. I think the Dark Fallanassi were afraid I'd inherited the Crest and could control their _kamargh_. I wonder if they've ever realized that they targeted the wrong sister.  
I said around Luke that your mother was the most Fallanassi of the lot of us. It's true. My supposed "bartender" of a grandmother had actually been a _teeklefa_, descended directly through the maternal line from the last only child of the ruling Fallanassi monarch. My grandmother had been selected as monarch but chose not to rule, letting her baby sister handle the Crest until she passed it to my sister. What did your mother did with it?  
Remembering how your mother could always defend herself, I think that Grandmother taught her something else, too: the secrets of a _zerchani_. I don't know what the name means, but I do know my grandmother was one of the few of that aggressive sect, rarer even than the Fallanassi Jedi, who number fewer than a dozen at any one time.  
I guess it's rarer because it's like that old fighting style, Vaapad, in that its silent killing techniques can lead to the Dark Side. Your mother was never in danger of falling; nor was Grandmother. I wonder what the secret is.  
Grandmother, being a genetic full Fallanassi, lived some centuries before settling down, so I guess she'd learn to deal with anger in that time. But I don't know how my sister did it, or even what she did. I wish I knew. I wish I knew how she assassinated Kar Vastor, the man who drove Jedi Master Billaba insane. Vastor had at least one Jedi Master guarding him at all times, and a constant minimum of three guards.  
Han's calling you "Your Worshipfulness" again, niece. That Isela could have called my sister that. Maybe Palpatine wouldn't have been brave enough to kill her.  
Maybe you could have known your mother.  
  
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	3. Jaina

  


JAINA  


  
You also are like Anakin Skywalker, Jaina; but much of that comes from your father, too. You're a natural pilot. You're piloting now, leading your squadron on a practice manuver.  
It's kind of funny, how much your father hated Darth Vader, not realizing how alike he was to the man Vader had once been. Silly Marson—your father's father. He'd laugh to see you so aggressive; laugh at your gentle twin.  
I can't say I like you much, Jaina. You're still volatile, even after your spiff with the Dark Side. It didn't scare you enough. I think you'll fall again, someday. Your temperment is still out of control.  
Are you what my sister would've been had she not controlled herself, Jaina? You look so much like her, though Jacen has more of her face. You have her, my, the family's eyes and hair. The Naberrie family's. Your cousin Padmé would probably recognize you, if you ever went to Naboo. She's Queen. Ryoo doesn't like it that she's taken after her namesake. Ryoo hated my sister… her aunt.  
Honestly, I think you frighten me, Jaina; but I can't be sure. In this drifting undead deadness, I can't be sure what I feel. I have no body to cue me in with chills, warmth, the urge to run, cry, or whatnot.  
Not that I really want a body. It was very painful, that business of living. I was wounded at least once a week, though I had trouble getting others to believe it. A few times the entire family had to gather around to put me back together… Once, I think my leg was in the flowerbed, my ear on the swing, and a finger buried as a bone in the dirt… Something like that.  
Needless to say, I never went to school. Even if I had been old enough, I would've horrified everyone else—been terrified, myself. I wonder if I would've been tutored?  
I don't like watching you when you pilot, Jaina. I used to watch my sister fly—but I can't watch you. Somehow, it makes me feel dizzy.  
It's strange, but lately I've been getting feelings I shouldn't be getting without a body to give them to me. I wonder what it is.  
_Careful_, Jaina. There's no need to fly all reckless like your brother. Let your flight keep up with you. Jag doesn't need you to show off for him. He knows what you can do.  
You don't need to show off for Kyp, either. His mother would sting him, if she was here, for him piloting that cargo vessel so, aiming to scare the owner. But she's off, keeping an eye on Mara, right now. I like Kyp's mother. I think. It's hard to link another essance to who they were when living. Sometimes, we'll both stand watch over your mother or Luke. If she's who I think she was, she delivered the Skywalker twins.  
Sometimes, especially when I just make a quick switch from watching one of you to another, I'll think I feel someone else watching with me. I'm never sure; but I'm feeling it now, which is strange. I normally don't feel it for this long. I never got it while my sister was alive. She probably kept me from sensing it. She could do that. She was always a lot better with the Force than I was, even after she made herself forget how to use it.  
This other "presence", or whatever it is, is odd. It's like a shadow, almost; a shadow hid behind a barrier I can't even sense. Master Yoda, maybe? But why would he hide from me? He never knew I existed. It's not Skywalker; I know that much. I'd recognize him.  
I think I should recognize it anyway, though, and I don't know why. I guess it's because it's so precisely unfamiliar, that it seems like someone must be intentionally fuzzing it. All my strong reading points are precisely its strong muffles. A coincidence… maybe.  
Or not.  
Would you laugh at your great-aunt, Jaina, if you knew how scared she is? Would you shake her off, toss her away like you do your hair from your face? Or would you listen, soothe, help, your long-dead great-aunt?  
I don't think you would.  



	4. Jacen

JACEN  


  
_Jacen.  
_ I scarcely dare to whisper around you, Jacen. You'd probably hear me, and then your family would think there might be something wrong with you, again. You're so quiet… gentle…  
Why'd you give up your pets? You used to love them so. Just because you've grown up doesn't mean you can't keep animals… does it? My sister kept a pitten when she was on Alderaan. Organa gave one of its cubs to your mother, who named it AT-AV, or All-Terrain Attack Vehicle. I liked that pitten.  
I never would have touched it, though. I would've never been in the same _room_ as it—it would've hurt me! All animals did. That was why my sister made herself forget about her Force abilities. She was the one to send the garden snake to me.  
She'd only meant to scare me—really. But she underestimated how much I aggrevate animals' attack instinct. As if it was a boa, it curled around my neck…  
Next thing I knew, I was looking at my limp blue self, my sister screaming and kicking the garden snake off my neck. "Sis?" I asked.  
She'd looked around wildly before suddenly spotting me. She burst out crying. "I didn't mean to! Master Thracia!" She ran off, sounding hysterical, while I wondered what the problem was. I didn't hurt anymore.  
When the family came out and stared teary-eyed at me, I still didn't get it. Even the visiting Jedi Master looked upset. My still-living grandfather Naberrie looked confused.  
"What is everyone staring at?"  
"Sola! Find Padmé, quick!" Mom ordered, kneeling beside my body. "Don't let her hurt herself."  
"_She_ did this?"  
"Angry. Scare me," I explained to the tiny old Jedi, a peer of my father's dead mother and my mother's dead father. They'd had an 'accident', as my other grandmother put it, meaning they'd decided it was time to join the Force before the Jedi Council tracked them. I still don't understand why no one found my living grandmother. She'd been one of their top information brokers, once…  
Well, anyway, they found my sister and dragged her back, but she'd already reacted. All portions of her memory related to the Force had been broken off from the rest of her memory and 'forgotten'. She only started remembering when she married your grandfather, though some of her old skills unwittingly returned before then. I don't think anyone suspected anything until she started shooting down rolling droidekas, and then only a few did.  
I don't remember when precisely I realized I was dead. I guess it's one of those things that once you know it, it feels like you've always known that. I barely remember what it was like to be alive, anymore…  
Why do you like Danni so much? You're not compatible. You're both too philosophical. That's great for friends, but for anything more you'd be at each other's throats all the time. Don't you remember who you used to like, though you thought she'd be shocked if she knew? What about those times you wondered why she did this, or didn't do that? Why haven't you ever asked? Why have you forgotten them? Didn't you notice her response to your good-bye?  
Someday, I might just talk to you, Jacen. Let you hear me. If you ever aim to marry that scientist, I think I will. She's a great person, but you need someone active to balance you out.  
I know—your grandparents were a lot alike, but so are you and Tenel Ka. My sister and Anakin were both stubborn, reckless pilots, and I could continue for I don't know how long with the list; but your grandmother was calmer, better controlled, more levelheaded, but willing to act when necessary. Kind of like you, actually, in that respect.  
You and Tenel Ka share calmness, common interests, and so forth… But her easy action and quick-thinking balances your pensiveness and distractibility, mister "Satellites!" Your diplomatic strength covers her weakness, and vice versa. Don't you see what a great team you are? I mean, I know you cut off her arm, but—  
I'd better leave before I get too loud.  
  


Author's Note:  
No, I don't hate Danni. I just don't want any forced personality changes, which would be needed if the Danni/Jacen thing really does end up working out on a closer-than-friends level.  
  
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	5. Anakin

ANAKIN  


  
You're not too far from me, Anakin. You never are. You're worried, watching that friend of yours, whatever her name is. Who is she, anyway?  
I'm not really talking to you, though. I don't want to distract you. I tried watching her, once, when you went to check on your mother. What's wrong with her? Why must she ask if she's done anything? Why can I sometimes not feel her?  
Why does she try to kill herself?  
When I think about it, I think I remember seeing a Jedi resembling her, a long time ago… That was a guy, though. I guess I'm wrong.  
It's when I think about that friend of yours that I feel guilty. I should have helped you. I could have set those Yuuzhan Vong on fire. I did it to clone troopers, once, when they went after my sister.  
Uh… Anakin? What are you doing? Why are you… Jaina?  
I'm confused! What's going on?  
…Does it even matter? I don't know. I'll never know. I'll just wait. You're waiting, too, Anakin. What for? Why does your friend feel… different?  
I guess we're both waiting, now, Anakin; for what? I don't know. I guess we'll find out eventually.  
…Do you hear that? I think… I think I hear my great-aunt calling us…  
Oh.  
  
Author's Note:  
The explanation of what they're waiting for is currently being worked on in "Comeback".  
Please Review! :)  
  



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